


caramel

by ruruka



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, future foundation canon, smut. yeah. mood.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-11 19:15:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13530819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ruruka/pseuds/ruruka
Summary: contradicts dr3 a little but here's my hot take. dr3 sucks.





	caramel

**Author's Note:**

> contradicts dr3 a little but here's my hot take. dr3 sucks.

returning home is his favorite part of the party.

it just seems to him that there's been far too much celebration in such a time as this- you know, the literal end of the world? but he supposes a get together commemorating the repopulation of that world dwindled is more proper a reason than football and sandwiches a deafening sunday squandered (and still he seethes to hagakure's weekly invitations unceased by his weekly slams of personal office door), even if the repopulating's being done one at a slow slow slow time by some vapid ingénue from the office. and he supposes dwelling on negatives his whole life lived has brought forth hardly the best as does optimism. not closely that he'd ever admit that in the years coming to parked now, but he's sharper at the jaw and kinder at the mind, because that's the toll time takes on a man of hard will. _but_ , regardless of how soon his roots should gray, he's tired at seven pm and his keys meeting knob is the sexiest symphony an orchestra of mansion bunnies couldn't rival.

the walk through the foyer is a hollow clacking, though he must say he cannot be caught in thoughts so deep as to ignore their echo, delves a trench down once to bead himself spun round.

naegi hasn't expected the grasp over his waist, very evident, peels to a noise in surprise at the pull toward middles met. togami's let a jangle drop to the coffee table top, jacket left arm to sleep across the sofa's; the details, so truly though, mean null to him, since his boyfriend's got lips of strawberry frosting and wedding dove coos (but perhaps that's just his mind getting ahead of itself, but perhaps-) that fit to his too finely. he'd like hands to roam him now, now after he's imagined it thirty times over a night gone to unreality, yet they rather the case whipped a straight height over bedhead tufts.

"careful," he says the very second his mouth's left bare. togami holds him tender still, makes for an expression drenched in chagrin liqueur. "precious cargo."

"you say this as though you'd sooner protect the _cupcakes_ from gunfire than the one who made them." in candor, he could believe truth found through it, by the way he's led through the den to set plastic to kitchen counter, and naegi removes the lid with all the herald angels harked in his love lime pupils. he's rather certain naegi had only attended the proffered baby shower for the takeaway. he's rather certain he'd only been invited as a plus one so he could take two.

"byakuya," trembles his ribs so sweet. the expression to face him is a stern demanding. "have you ever had one of andou's cupcakes? of course i'd take a bullet for them."

"no," togami says, "but i watched you eat four at the shower, so i'd assert as much."

his smart mouth is shut up by the push of pink frosting toward it. sensations take his teeth and fingers the same note, as naegi's prodding his fingers with the peeled back wrapper bottom of the second, and he's never so daft as to misunderstand. the wedding analogy finds his head again to their synced feeding of one another, to naegi's laughter bounding in the frosting marring his nose. togami cannot decide what is most delicious, but he'd praise the chocolate for its moist and soft interior. then he thinks he'd ought to not, because such a vernacular makes him tighter at the belt, and the current's no time proper for that.

waiting until after wrappers have crumbled to fists and finger pads have been licked ways, each sets by the same tongue, one he decides is his now to claim, is most appropriate. naegi's body is delectably warm when pressed to his own, backed up to the counter's lip in melding theirs. palms caress either his jaw. further go drops to hips swaying idle, and he feels the smile built wet along the kiss.

"excited, mm?" a kiss dots his throat, hands to chest.

he breathes a sharp through the nose, outward to a husk, "just thinking we ought to do our part, too. imagine how vastly the world would benefit from more togamis."

those hands on his chest tap several beats, laugh gracing his neck to a draw back. "well, let me wash their tupperware first, then we'll get to your grand plan."

togami can't recall a time sarcasm's ever been so sexy outside the realm of his own lips. cannot he place likewise anyone as such a raw turn on with sleeves shoved to elbows and soap on the fingertips, leads his very same to circle about waist's front. warmth again melts to him. naegi's...a desk lamp; hot so pleasant to the touch, aids his work past moon's presence, wanted in his life, _so_ wanted.

(he'd just compare him to sunshine were he not togami byakuya, always the swordsman to cliches).

but naegi's naegi and naegi is the love of his life, which is delightful despite the side of unease. he's a large role to fill. he's a tie to the world, a reason to press on. someone to bring home after an evening out. someone to be a plus one to.

fingers flick water, suds to the drain, go to brush dried on jean thighs in his spin opposite in those arms. "remind me to give that back to izayoi at work tomorrow," he says, kisses his lips fresh once and ducks beneath a bicep to make way for the grand railed staircase. togami eyes his leave and soaks in his parting words (and he would have done so anyway, is positive he'll be the one to grab it from the dish rack the morning to follow once the other's already long sprung for the passenger seat), soaks the drips from the sink's border with a hand towel along his lean. it snaps in a fold over the edge.

and there's no probable way that naegi's been able to park himself to the living room sectional so sudden as togami's taken to the archway through to it, though he supposes being caught up in neatening the most idle bits of kitchen had eaten up more time than envisioned- but what the hell's the time span matter when his boyfriend's sitting on the couch half nude and beckoning him in moonlight attenuation, looks a king to plush missing only a glass of rich cabernet in a palm. togami runs a tongue along his lips, stalks forward hungered.

a grin breaks to his tantalizing, and he's straddled to togami's hips the second he seats himself tall backed and wise. the half nudity is found through legs a duo in cream lengths, rents his palms a place to spend the night on his boxer briefed ass. cotton piles the rest of him, the hooded top he's worn this evening spent, though his guess would venture gladly that a zip down its front would entail only pale skinned glory. and it's so _naegi_ of him that he could scream, but decides he'd rather tug those from the one placed now perfect against his lap in the moments soon to trail.

in those moments naegi's the key to all pleasure turned in his own, ass to lap back to chest, and togami's hands need not ask permission before they've settled upon cotton hem to slide down thighs aquiver. there's no concealing the flame run thick across him, not by the way it's focused upon in grinds of bared ass to stiff stilled crotch, though he cannot find the time for shame. never in himself nor his masculine, masculine throb.

naegi takes to it ever so gung-ho. the zipper pull to his hoodie rests a long v down the midst of him, drawn by his fingers only natural, just to precede the soft capture in either hand. his chest is warm flesh that fits neat in his palms to massaging. head tilts, lids drift, mewls a medley to his nipples' newfound care; brushing, pinching.

they sunder only a brief try as to kick away loitering, allow touch a spotlight on his slacks' button pull. permitted only goes a knees' length shoving til the warmth is back to him, hands back to the massaging the brushing and lips back to throat where naegi revs a thousand engines the once to purr at the kisses, twine arms backward round him as they go to a meeting the most tempted. the living room's cold to the touch and hot as honeycomb to delve within. hot as honeycomb hot as the third layer of lemon cake and all her melty buttercream. naegi is smooth silk (moist and soft moist and soft) in his up downs on his cock, leans a sweet forward just the way he lusts for. hands, strong by years gone- they squish that hot buttercream skin along the ass to translate his right.

" _byakuya_..." it's just as hot and just as drippy as syrup down every crevice, grants him the urge for a thrust sharp upwards, all the same draws him back to leant in his hold. naegi has yet a sight taken past his overcome veneer, eyes shut still to divinity. a bite goes to his pulse. he bounces himself harder, swifter, in the lap beneath him.

the feel of pussy wet and throbbing against his cock so hard in its neediness- it all drives togami perfectly mad, pushes his touch scattered and teeth vulgar, desperate neath moonlight cool to pound into his moaning groaning little mess of a boyfriend. _please please please_ , it's all he knows all he can know in the moment's ardor. and far be it from him to ever once deny begging crawled from lips plush to the night's gleam. _please byakuya- mmn, ah_. he's mad mad mad with fever and heart.

wild's call demands his climax, brings them equal an imbroglio filed fine. naegi's as hot as ever (desk lamp? hell no- 5778 kelvin delight) against his chest, muttering over and over and under and over his name amidst outcrying he's assured the ten blocks off round have absorbed. luscious. reluctance is their parted ways that comes not before mouths should twist aligned.

the tupperware sits in the drying rack the full next day to follow.


End file.
